A Crack in the Wall
by MoonStarDutchess
Summary: He protected her and kept her from being trapped between four walls once again, and now it was time for her to try to take down his. Rumbelle


**A Crack in the Wall **

**Author: MoonStarDutchess**

**Oneshot (Part of a serie****s by my dear friend Rinoax called Missing Moments and Quotidian Things).**

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own Once Upon a Time and this fiction is written only as an expression of dedication to this pairing and fandom. It's a noncommercial work and not a product of the original owners. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of original characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited. **

**An: This was originally the beginning of a more comedic Rumbelle but when it became more serious, I couldn't use it for that. I was questioning whether to post it or not since, it came so randomly but decided in the end that there's no use leaving it on my computer. This takes place before my fic called Drugstore Dilemma. **

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Belle furtively grasped the cloth of her dress and gave it a gentle tug, hoping the hem would go a bit lower than her knees so she wouldn't feel half-naked. A dress like this would be scandalous in her world; in fact, it wouldn't even make a suitable nightgown for the marriage bed.

But she wasn't in her world and in this new place—an amazing environment that she'd been unfairly locked away from—it was common to see women wearing these dresses. Some even revealing more leg skin than she was. With the short dresses came odd feelings for her: jealousy mixed with her ever-present curiosity. She occasionally glanced at Rumplestiltskin, from the corner of her eyes so he wouldn't notice, and studied the way he reacted to women who were dressed like herself.

He'd been living out here for the past twenty-eight years, seeing all these women in their short skirts and shorts, so she was curious about his reaction to them. She was surprised that he hadn't spared a glance in their direction, looking more as if doing so would waste his time. Her clothing was nowhere near as attractive or revealing as the women they passed, but when she'd walked of the dressing room in the clothes shop, he'd looked at her as if she was a goddess. After receiving a look like that, she didn't have the heart or desire to tell him she wasn't comfortable. Though she doubted she'd be comfortable with much of anything after being locked away so long behind those horrible walls. Walls that for so long kept her away from him and the world.

If she dressed like everyone else, she'd fit in, if she fit in she wouldn't be trapped again. And it wasn't as if people would find her odd and out of place in these clothes. Not by appearance anyway. All the women on the pictures in the shop were dressed in less than she was. One was even in her undergarments: what little there were of them. That would take some getting used to, but it was a wonderful thing this world had going for it: less layers and the clothing was lighter. But that incident only added to her confusion regarding Rum's interests. His reaction was puzzling. He hadn't even looked at the poster of the woman in her underwear and just asked the shop girl to help her choose a nice dress and other feminine necessities.

Even though he'd argue over it with her until his face changed color, Rumplestiltskin was a man, and she wasn't so innocent and naïf to not know the effects bare skin had on the male gender. However, she could only apply it to men in her world, where a show of the uncovered ankle or calf was a rare treat for a man lucky enough to catch a glimpse. Men in this world must be more desensitized to flesh. She shuddered to think of what women did to actually catch the attention of a man now.

Two more women passed Rumplestiltskin and herself, and once again, he paid them no mind despite both being prettier than she was. In fact, every woman they passed was better looking. She didn't put a lot of value into looks, but it didn't help her self-esteem to know that her hair wasn't as tidy as it could be; it would take a while to straighten that up. Her skin was so dry it flaked thanks to the cool room she'd been locked in until a few days ago. The dark circles under her eyes made her resemble a raccoon, and not the cute kind but one that looked like it'd been attacked viciously by whoever did Regina's makeup. The pretty dress Rumple bought for her did little to hide her imperfections, and she felt as if her entire body screamed that she belonged locked up because she couldn't assimilate.  
When a couple approached them, and she saw they were going to pass on her side, she moved closer to Rum. She was still wary of other people, especially when they looked as if they wanted to hurt someone. The night she'd stormed out of his shop, the day they had reunited in this world, she hadn't realized she might bump into someone until she was halfway down the street. By that time, her stubborn nature had kicked in and kept her from immediately running back to the protection of the man she loved and the sturdy walls of his shop.

The people passed and shot Rum a look that made her tremble. Their looks were full of hatred that even Regina at her cruelest never displayed. They ignored her as if she wasn't there.

He must've sensed her insecurity because he moved his arm tighter against his body and gave her arm a light squeeze. She reached up and placed her hand atop his forearm in a silent thank you. She took comfort in the warmth and smell of hazelnut and Spicewood that always seemed to radiate off this particular form of his. She wanted to keep close to him to prevent anyone from snatching her away and locking her up among those walls again.

She wanted to take in everything about this new world and adapt to the wonders around her. While everyone else wanted to go back home, she wanted to explore. This desire that she'd never voice would make her an unknown oddity in the town: something she was rather used to and found oddly comforting.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he guided her across the street when a car stopped at a weird hanging light thing.

"A drugstore. We're going to get you some things you're going to need."

She looked up at him. "But you've bought me so much today. Do I truly need anything else?"

He let a soft smile come to his lips. "There are things we need to get at a drugstore that we can't get in the clothing shops dearest."

"Oh. Like drugs?" she asked then instantly felt stupid for saying something so obvious. If he were amused or frustrated with the comment, he showed no signs of it. In fact, he was patient with all the random questions she'd asked in the past days.

"Yes, but I don't think you need drugs."

She shivered. She never wanted to take another drug as long as she lived. She wouldn't be exaggerating to say that, during her stay in the asylum, she probably had every type of drug this world made. It was part of Regina's torture. "Why didn't you become one?"

"Become a what?"

"A drugstore owner. I remember you used to mix all those concoctions in your laboratory. They healed wounds so well." And probably did far more things that she'd rather not think of. Then she wondered if he'd actually had a choice in the matter of work he did in this world. This was a curse after all.  
"You mean a pharmacist."

"Yes."

"A lawyer seemed a more suitable occupation," he said. "I make a good liar."

"You don't lie, you just leave things out," she said. It was the truth. She'd never actually caught him in a lie. From what she learned about his deals, he never lied to those people and always warned that whatever they wanted would come at a price. If not at the present time, then somewhere in the future. He was evil, she wouldn't be stupid enough to deny that, but people chose to accept his deals even though they were aware of the reputation that rested upon his shoulders like a thick chinchilla mantel.

That didn't mean she agreed with his twisting on the truth, and she certainly didn't like it, but she tolerated it for now. He was trying to change and that said something about his love for her.

"That I do." He looked pleased that she noticed. Even though his appearance was vastly different from what she knew in the past, she could hear the same lilts in his voice; see the same expressions that wore their way on his face. He was handsome, if not better looking, than he was in their original world, and just as enthralling as well. Not attractive in a Gaston way, no, she didn't like that sort of attractiveness. He was attractive in ways of the mind. From the moment he spoke, even with high pitched, childlike voice, she could feel the intelligence in him. The experience. With the way he gestured about a room as if floating on air, charmed her. The way he ran his hand along his spinning wheel put thoughts in her mind that a lady shouldn't have. Even with the limp and this more human-like form, he held that sort of awe that was to be respected, and to some, reviled.

The cane he used in this world only added to his charm, reminding her of a hero from books that had come back from saving people from a war. Of course, her Rum wouldn't save anyone in a war without a deal. She was evidence of that, though she was now sure he'd save her in a war without hesitation. Without so much as mentioning a deal.

"Did you look the way you do now?" she asked before she realized the words that were coming out of her mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"As a normal man in our world, did you look the way you do now?"

When he tensed, she felt bad for being the cause. He took a deep, but quick, breath as if he didn't want her to know she'd caught him by surprise. He never told her about himself before he was the Dark One other than a bit of information about losing his wife and son. His appearance was a safe topic since there was no need to "spill his guts" as the therapy lady on the radio said.

"I was more humped over I suppose," he said. "I hardly remember anything about my appearance. Mirrors weren't readily available to my particular status."

"I think you're handsome," she said and looked for a blush. It didn't come but he did look away from her for a few seconds.

"You have bad taste dearie," he finally said. "First you fall for the beast in our world, all greenish and scaly looking. Now you say that about a crippled old man."

"You are not old," she said and rested her head on his upper arm.

She opened her mouth to ask another question but hesitated. He must have noticed because he said, "Go ahead."

"Did you have the limp in our world before you were the Dark One, or was it something you got here?"

"I had it in our world before I was the Dark One. The limp I have now is more medically stable than the one I had yea—centuries ago."

She didn't know why the mention of his age still caught her off-guard. She knew he was far older than he appeared. A twenty-year age difference that most women in court complained about was nothing compared to their age difference. She remembered complaining about ages when her father was speaking of suitors. When she fell in love with someone that lived hundreds of her lifetimes, she'd realized it truly didn't matter.

Sometimes she even forgot he was the Dark One.

"And I was much weaker," she heard him mutter.

And that word at the end of his sentence, the one that made his voice crack ever so slightly, was part of the many reasons she sometimes forgot who he was. He could see nothing but his weakness and why he was so unworthy of things that made him happy. She sensed the guilt underneath the surface, beneath what made him the Dark One. She felt the Dark One was merely a magnification, with magic, of evil already present. Evil that every single person carried somewhere in their body; including the so-called perfect residents of Storybrooke. With evil, there was usually the spark of good. Rum had it in the love of his son, and in his love for her. She'd be that constant good in his life as much as she was able.

He refused to admit the weakness was also there in the very thing he thought made him stronger. His magic. It was there like a ghostly possession in the insecurities he let her see. It caused a wall to form around him that would take most of her time and patience to break down.

So far, she seemed to be succeeding.

She'd made a crack in the wall that she would continue to hammer at until she got to the real him. The man before the power, the strange skin, and the semi-closed and clearly broken heart.

She'd break down the walls that captured him, just as he was keeping her out of the walls that once contained her. And when she did, she'd be there to make sure he'd survive without them.

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**AN: With as much fluff I write, I wasn't expecting this to be so serious. It's my first Rumbelle and my first TV show fic so I'm a bit nervous. Okay, I'm terrified. XD**

**Comments are loved, hugged, and appreciated. **


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